Thursday, September 22, 2011

Botswana - the land of surprises and beauty

In a way, South Africa could be considered the 'frontier' between the West Coast of Africa and the East Coast. -- Well -- if you are on a trans journey, that could be the way one can see it. There is such a vast, vast difference between the West Coast and the East Coast -- already, only a few weeks into the second part of our magical journey, it is almost as if we have crossed over to another continent altogether. Like black and white. Like night and day. Like chalk and cheese.

I say that South Africa could be considered the 'frontier' as South Africa does not really fall into either category. A modern first world country (yes, I know, since about fifteen years ago one cannot really make that statement anymore...) in a third world continent. And then, the first new country we enter into on our journey back up north, came Botswana. I know I am starting to sound silly, claiming every country we enter into to be just beautiful, just wonderful, just the most fascinating -- but bear with me -- Botswana, to me, has been by far one of the most surprising countries so far. I had been there before, experienced some of its culture before, am familiar with the Tswanas and their beautiful smiles and warm hospitality, with their dry, dusty heat and dead-tree landscape, their elephants and their basket weaving, the 'zebra' black and white synergy of their leadership and thinking -- and yet, I was still surprised and delighted by what the country had to offer us this time round. -- As we quote David so often on this trip: "In Africa you never know what you will get; sometimes it is good, sometimes it is bad, but it is always a surprise". Never a truer word spoken when it came to Botswana...

The Republic of Botswana is a southern African country and in many ways unique. Its history is not so different from other African countries, and yet, the end result is -- probably because of the excellent leadership of a single man -- a shining example of what could have been for every other country were it not for the people involved in their development.

In the 19th century, hostilities broke out between the Tswana inhabitants of Botswana and the Ndebele tribes who were making incursions into the territory from the north-east. Tensions also escalated with the white settlers from the Transvaal to the east. After appeals by the Batswana leaders Khama III, Bathoen and Sebele for assistance, the British Government put "Bechuanaland" under its protection on 31 March 1885. The northern territory remained under direct administration as the Bechuanaland Protectorate and is modern-day Botswana, while the southern territory became part of the Cape Colony and is now part of the northwest province of South Africa. The majority of Setswana-speaking people today live in South Africa. It adopted its new name after becoming independent within the Commonwealth on 30 September 1966. It has held free and fair democratic elections since independence.

Botswana is flat, and up to 70% is covered by the Kalahari Desert. It is bordered by South Africa to the south and southeast, Namibia to the west and north, and Zimbabwqe to the northeast. Its border with Zambia to the east is poorly defined but at most is a few hundred meters long -- so it is a mid-sized, landlocked country of just over two million people.

Botswana was one of the poorest countries in Africa when it gained independence from Britain in 1966, with a GDP per capita of about US$70, but has transformed itself, becoming one of the fastest-growing economies in the world to a GDP per capita of about $14,800 . Much of this was because of the leadership of Sir Seretse Khama,
(1921-80), founding President of Botswana, (1966-80). He inherited an impoverished and internationally obscure state from British rule, and left an increasingly democratic and prosperous country with a significant role in Southern Africa. He attended Fort Hare University College and graduated with a general BA degree in 1944. In August 1945 he was sent to England for a legal education. After a year at Balliol College, Oxford, he enrolled for barrister studies at the Inner Temple, London.In 1947 Seretse Khama met an English woman of his age, Ruth Williams, daughter of a retired army officer. They were married in September 1948. Uncle Tshekedi ordered Seretse home to berate him and demand a divorce. But, after a series of public meetings in Serowe, Seretse turned his people against Tshekedi, and was popularly recognised as Kgosi together with his wife. The proclamation of a black chief with a white wife, in a territory strategically placed between South Africa and the Rhodesias, caused outcry among white settler politicians. South Africa had come under the control of white Afrikaner nationalists in 1948. The British were told that there was no chance of the pro-British opposition party winning the next all-white election in South Africa, if Seretse Khama was allowed to be chief of the Bangwato.

The Labour government in Britain desperately needed South African gold and uranium. It agreed to bar Seretse Khama from chieftainship. The Commonwealth relations minister denied that the government was bowing to racism, and lied about this before the House of Commons. A judicial enquiry was set up to prove Seretse's personal unfitness to rule. However, Justice Harragin concluded that Seretse was eminently fit to rule. His report was therefore suppressed by the British government for thirty years. Seretse and his wife were exiled to England in 1951, and in 1952 the new Conservative government declared the exile permanent. The treatment of Seretse and Ruth Khama by British governments received international press coverage, and outrage was expressed by a wide range of people including human-rights activists, Scottish, West African, Indian and West Indian nationalists, British communists, and conservatives who supported the principle of aristocratic inheritance. Eventually, in 1956, a new Commonwealth relations minister realised that Britain must distance itself from institutionalized racism in South Africa, and decided to allow Seretse and Ruth home as commoners and private citizens.

Back home, Seretse Khama was still respected as a man of principle and integrity, but was generally seen as being out-of-touch and a yesterday's man. He was a not too successful cattle rancher and dabbler in local politics, and declined in health until incipient diabetes was diagnosed in 1960. Then, however, much to everyone's surprise, in 1961 he was suddenly energized as a nationalist politician.

The first task was to lay the groundwork for an export-oriented economy, based on beef processing and copper and diamond mining. President Khama then turned his personal attention to foreign policy, seeking out allies such as President Kaunda of Zambia to break Botswana free from its image of being a docile 'hostage' state. He also used his unique authority to develop local democracy and quash the powers of traditional chiefs, to develop citizen administrative capacity without over-bureaucratization, and to promote the rule of law in the operations of the state.
Though Botswana came to be described as a 'paternalist democracy' under the dominance of one political party, it succeeded in establishing itself as both prosperous and peaceful. Between 1966 and 1980 Botswana had the fastest growing economy in the world. It also came to be seen a remarkable state with high principles, upholding liberal democracy and non-racialism in the midst of a region embroiled in civil war, racial enmity and corruption. State mineral revenues were invested in infrastructural development, education and health, and in subsidies to cattle production. The result was a great increase in general prosperity, in rural as well as urban areas, though with inequities that were to become increasing apparent after the death of Seretse Khama.

Seretse Khama was known for his intelligence and integrity, and a wicked sense of humour --puncturing the pomposity of those who had too high an opinion of themselves. He also went through cycles of ill-health and depression, exacerbated by diabetes. He underwent intensive medical treatment in 1968-69 and in 1976-77, when he was fitted with a heart pacemaker, but bounced back energetically in both cases with an innovative period lasting for years. His wife, Ruth Khama, remained the guardian of his health and homelife, but had relatively little influence on his politics.

Today Sir Seretse and Lady Ruth's son, Ian, leads the country and continue in his father's footsteps in practising a healthy and pragmatic policy - both in foreign affairs and economically. -- After the noticeable lack of infrastructure, industry and commerce in most of the West African countries, the visible expansion and growth and development around every corner in Botswana was a pleasure to behold.



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Tuesday, September 20, 2011

From Johannesburg to Maun -- the journey begins -- again...



sleeping...

The beautiful Kranzkop of my childhood -- suddenly next to the main road instead of way off in a hazy distance, showing the way to NumNum

the first sunset on the East Coast journey

The beautiful herds of Africa remain with us

And here we are

The mammoth Jwaneng diamond mine near Orapa

Fragrant trees in the Kalahari desert

Salt pans in the Kalahari

and dust devils dancing across the desert

All the trees in the desert were in bloom, filling the air with the most delicious fragrance

Sunrise in Maun -- before we set off for the Okovango Delta!

Saturday, September 17, 2011

Greetings from Chobe!

Almost one week back on the road again -- and what a Red Button Week it has been!

Last Sunday, with trepidation, I re-joined the group -- now 21 strong! -at the Amadwala Lodge in Johannesburg. A new truck, a new group -- with six lovely young Germans having joined us, two Britons and two Canadians -- and the most delightful Karl and Mandy as our drivers/group leaders. I loved hearing all the amazing experiences the group have enjoyed since I last saw them in Kinshasa, but am quite upset also hearing about how they were harassed by locals -- in particular in Cape Town. I have never had that happen to me or any of our guests and was therefore quite surprised to hear that it is so prevalent now. --- Definitely something we will have to address... The other negative issue I believe needs to be remedied is the fact that visitors to Johannesburg still get taken on the "Soweto Tour". A ridiculously over-priced and overrated day's outing for people who have no more than 24 hours in Johannesburg! What a crying shame it is still even on offer to tourists-- without a doubt an item that is well and truly 15 years past its sell-by date. And when I think of all the amazing things they could have done and seen in that time! The city abounds with innovative and exciting events and happenings and sights. In fact, I wished I had at least a week to re-visit my old home town, there is so much going on and on offer for the visitor to Johannesburg.
But quickly back to my update -- I have upgraded to a room at the Thebe River Lodge here in Kasane, Botswana -- and I intend to enjoy the little time I have here -- not spend it all on the computer! Tomorrow morning before dawn we are going out on a game drive and time is galloping along...
From Johannesburg we drove north -- through Pretoria, through Krantzkop (-- the new road passing right under the lovely landmark so close to NumNum -- our family's own gorgeous little bit of wilderness), through all the towns and landmarks of my childhood which now bear different names but still look the same! Not far past Pretoria, however, we were pulled over by a traffic warden -- and it felt just like old times back in Mauritania and Nigeria and the entire West Africa where road blocks became a natural part of the journey. The reason here though was because we were supposed to have a passenger manifest, and as ours was on the laptop screen but not printed out, it entailed a R500-00 fine which had to be paid in Sinoville -- so all the way back to Pretoria to go pay the fine before we could, once again, head north.
The first night we bushcamped -- and it was like old times -- pitching tents, cooking dinner over the open fire, sitting chatting under the stars. Then on through the Kalahari -- seeing giraffe, kudu, elephant and so many little duikers on the way -- to Maun where we camped behind the Sedia Hotel, on the banks of the Thamalakane River -- a welcome oasis in the desert town.

Then the experience of a lifetime -- an hour-long journey in a makoro (a dugout made from a sausage tree to a clearing under a massive rain tree somewhere in the heart of the Okovango Delta. I will most certainly be telling much more about this Red Button Moment -- as well as about the flight we took over the Delta two days later. It was superb!

Tonight -- after a long day's drive -- we are in Kasane. Today on the road we saw so many elephant, more giraffes, more kudu -- and two wonderful sightings of sable antelope! Joy!

And tomorrow morning at 5:45 we set off on a game drive through the Chobe game reserve after which we continue on to Livingstone in Zambia -- where we will be spending a few days and from where I will fill in the details! (And hopefully where I will be able to sort out how to upload the photographs from my new camera (long story) and so post some pics for you here on the blog!

Until then -- hamba kahle!

Wednesday, September 7, 2011

Flying over the Eastern Cape


The early morning sun over the Indian Ocean


When the plane stands on its side it is easier to look for whale sharks and other sea creatures...
Pierre tells how a month ago, during the sardine run, there were not hundreds, but thousands of dolphins -- the most ever seen along this coast line during the sardine run.


The pupil and the instructor, the plane and the open skies -- a perfect morning out



If there are equally pristine, wide, open unspoilt beaches anywhere in the world, please let me know where they are...


Where are we? Back on track, soon on the road again, SO ready for the next half of the journey!

First of all a huge apology to all my readers for simply leaving you hanging!

The last couple of weeks in Kinshasa was a strange time in limbo; finally learning that we could get visas but only to fly into Luanda (Angola) and then travel by road from there, trying to find a way for the truck to meet us there but discovering that shipment of a vehicle from Pointe Noire (Congo-Brazzaville - which would have necessitated Mark to take those non-roads all the way back there!) are prohibitively expensive and so ruling out that possibility, then spending days trying to find flights for everyone to Windhoek (via via via -- Addis Abbeba, Nairobi,Johannesburg, Cape Town...) AND trying to sort through all the artifacts and masks and carvings and loads and loads of fabrics that everyone had accumulated over the last six months. We could not leave anything on the truck as we had no idea what was going to happen to it, and, as we had assumed that we would only have to deal with all that extra luggage once we arrived at our end destination - Istanbul - it came as somewhat of a shock that all of a sudden we had to deal with this problem in Kinshasa. David did all the homework and found DHL would be the most expedient, but then was told that in order to send masks from Africa you need a certificate with its providence from the Ministry of Culture. A certificate? When they had been bought from a motley bunch of people somewhere along the road -- exact location on the map unknown; when the price had been negotiated over several hours and even days and had gone up and down and sideways so many times that: -- exact purchase price now forgotten; when the original source of the mask was often a mere figment of the sales skills of the seller -- so origin unknown; and when the age of the mask could be anything between the 200 years that the seller claimed and 2 years that the layer of dust and dirt guaranteed -- so age unknown. Where and when was there ever a thought of obtaining a certificate of authenticity and providence? David ended up paying a king's ransom -- or should I say an African dictator's ransom for a man from the Ministry to come give an assessment of his masks and another Mugabe's ransom to have his 18(?) masks sent home. I say a little prayer daily that the receiver on the other side is not going to have to pay yet another ransom in import duty...

Because of a commitment I had made, I had to stay at our friend's house until everyone had left, which meant that I missed out on Namibia, Swakopmund, the Skeleton Coast, the dunes and the Koker Trees and Namakwaland, spring in the desert and the drive down the West Coast and the wine tour in Stellenbosch and Cape Town... Ironically I have criss-crossed South Africa during my long life-time and know my country probably better than most, but the one place I have never been is Namibia (-- other than Windhoek where we were guests during the Independence Celebrations many years ago.) I was so looking forward to seeing this beautiful country, so having to forfeit that entire section was not a sacrifice I was happy to make. I would have thought that with a little more forethought and planning things could have been organised differently. But that is all water under the bridge now.

During the last few days, our gracious host, Jacky Ngando and I explored Kinshasa and the surrounding countryside, enjoyed the delights of the best ice-cream parlour in the entire world, sat and talked and and talked and talked - making my stay in Kinshasa -- and especially our walks along the mighty Congo River, very very much a Red Button Moment for me! We spoke about history and perceptions, about values and integrity, about nature and art and about the nature of man. Jacky is a mining engineer of note (currently with Mwana Africa PLC, a pan-African, multi-commodity resources company. Mwana’s principal operations and exploration activities cover gold, nickel and other base metals, and diamonds in Zimbabwe, the DRC and South Africa. Mwana was the first African owned and managed mining business to be listed on London’s AIM market.) with a string of degrees from universities all over the world (- starting at Stanford, then Yale and from there to Europe and onwards) , but nonetheless he devoted days and days to our little group's every wish and need, and, as we speak, he is on an expedition that he had been planning over the last year: with a group of friends – all experts in one or another field – he has gone into the forest near the village where he was born where they are going to stay for a month – in sepcially designed tents. During this time they will set up solar powered equipment, including satellite television, internet, cooking and refrigeration facilities, a water pump and water purification system, an irrigation system, a greenhouse, and much more. The mind boggles when you see the extent of this experiment he is setting up in the forest. The aim is to educate the local people of the region there – and showing them first hand what they can do with modern technology powered by the sun. He will train them in innovative farming techniques, introduce them to new food sources (inter alia try to persuade them to grow nutritious maize rather than nutrient-poor cassava! – Good luck Jacky!), hydroponics and irrigation systems and how to use the resources – of which the Congo DRC is so immensely rich – that are there and available and untapped.

At the end of the month, he will come back and then leave the Congo. As I mentioned before, the elections are scheduled for 29 November. Unless a few European countries (that are in Kabila's pocket) make the claim that the Congo is not ready for the elections and they are postponed, or unless the elections are not run in a fair and free manner, there is bound to be an upheaval in the country – probably, according to my sources, on the 6th of December. We met a human rights laywer – a Congolese who was thrown into prison by the previous Kabila - for being too outspoken, rescued by international pressure, and who now lives in South Africa, and who is currently back in Kinshasa as part of the monitoring team of the elections. “They are not preparing for an election,” Hubert said. “They are planning for war.”

(** For the background of what is happening in the Congo DRC, refer to precious entries)

So – where are we-- or rather, where am I?

Once everyone had left to continue on our journey, I flew – via Nairobi – to Johannesburg, where I literally fell into my sister's open arms! What joy! There waited for me a beautiful room in a beautiful garden, a comfortable bed, crisp cotton sheets, a soft light eiderdown, (a hotwater bottle at the bottom of the bed!), fresh flowers on the bedside table, a selection of the latest, best, most wonderful books to read, delicious food – the likes of which only Inkie knows to prepare – and the feeling of having arrived HOME! As the saying goes : Priceless...

And now, for the last week in Western Civilisation, I have been visiting Pierre in the breathtakingly lovely Port Alfred. The ocean here is so stunning, the wide, white beaches go on over the horizon, the rock pools a canvas of colour and texture and beauty, little restaurants where the food is innovative and exciting, - fresh fish and seafood – enough to sate even my craving!, the wine like you only find in this amazing country of mine, and the people warm and welcoming and exactly like I remember my fellow-South Africans to be. Flying with Pierre is always a thrill – and this morning when we flew out over the ocean and he took his student through the loops of cutting engines, asymmetric flight, steep turns, asymmetric touch and go, instrument flying and landings, aircraft calibration, sharp circle drops (emergency descent)– all with the strict instruction that “all of it has to be done without my mom feeling even a twinge of nausea!”, and it happened exactly like that, I wasn't sure whether I had to compliment the student on his brilliant flying skills or my son on his brilliant instruction skills. A proud moment either way.

Friday I fly back to Johannesburg and on Sunday I re-join the group – now a different bunch of people, a different driver, different dynamics, a very different Africa which awaits us on the East Coast of Africa. The East Coast is as different from the West Coast as night from day. English as opposed to French. Facilities and campsites and an environment geared for tourists. Tarred roads. Electricity. Different thinking. Different. The West Coast as we experienced it is still Black Africa/the Dark Continent. The East Coast, I expect, holds few remnants of that notion. But nevertheless an adventure – another adventure – that awaits us.
And after the comfortable two weeks in the warmth and safety and the laps of luxury and shelter of family and friends, I have re-gained more than a couple of the many kilos I had lost during the last six months, I have been reminded what it feels like to eat at a table set with starched linen table cloths and crystal glass and silver and porcelain, what it feels like to lie immersed in a bath filled with boiling hot water and six inches of perfumed foam, what it is to walk to the fridge and pour myself a glass of ice-cold milk, what it feels like to wake up in a comfortable bed and listen to the birds outside in the beautiful garden – and I am ready – as ready as I will ever be, to get back on the truck and continue my search for the fragrance of that shooting star.